Medusa, A Love Story (The Loves of Olympus) (12 page)

Medusa set the table with care. Athena would sit in the middle, her priestesses and arrephoroi across from her, her acolytes on either side. She favored her acolytes, ever patient in their tutelage. When the time came, those who showed promise became her favored priestesses. After all, Athena loved and knew them already.

It was a trait Athena valued, loyalty. And loyalty was built over time.

The procession of candidates climbed the hill, illuminated by the slim torches they carried. They filed slowly into the temple to the sound of whispering linen, for twenty skirts, veils and robes stood awaiting the Goddess’ arrival.

The youngest, no more than seven years of age, peeked from her hood. Her huge brown eyes stared around the temple in wonder, making Medusa smile.

The atmosphere was that of excitement, of anticipation. They looked upon the Goddess with hope and longing, as was right. As she once had.

“My, what a crowd I’m given.” Athena’s voice was playful.

Athena presented a fine figure. With the moonlight at her back, the Goddess was illuminated by its white rays and framed between the ionic columns that held her temple straight and tall.

Thea arrived amidst a flurry of flapping wings and sing-song calls. She circled once before perching on Medusa’s shoulder. The bird called out to the Goddess with a loving coo. Athena’s gaze swept the room.

Medusa smiled as Athena’s eyes met hers, amused by Thea’s preening.

But then Athena did something she’d never done before. The Goddess walked, fluid grace, across the marble floor to stand before her. She touched Medusa’s cheek, sighing as her brown eyes examined her priestess with an unsettling intensity. Then her touch was gone and the Goddess moved back to inspect the rest of the maidens offered as her servants.

Medusa touched her cheek, the sense of foreboding returning to race up her spine and prick up the hair along her neck.

Thea cooed at Medusa, leaning into her mistress’s shoulder. Medusa stroked her repeatedly while waiting, hoping her unease was naught but nerves.

Athena addressed them, “I am pleased by such devotion from the families of Athens, even when the city itself faces siege. Rest easy, for you will be well protected if you’re selected. I am pleased to have Ektor, nephew of Nereus, as guardian to the priestess, and a full troop of hoplite guards to protect the temple from threat.” The ceremony was simple, witnessed only by Athena’s guards and Ektor. They would be responsible for the well-being of those Athena selected.

It took no time, for Athena knew who to choose. Eight names were called, each pronounced by their Goddess with a reverence they would cherish long into their memories – Medusa knew.

“Korinna, daughter of Theodoros…” Athena began, calling out name after name until only one remained.

“Elaini, daughter of Kallitratos,” the Goddess finished.

Medusa drew in a deep breath. Her name was not one of them.

“Little one,” did not ring out. Athena had not chosen her.

Had Poseidon prevailed? Did she belong to Poseidon now?

She felt dizzy. Her fate had been decided then…

She straightened. She would not falter, no matter what Athena told her.

As the new priestesses gathered – for Athena would instruct them of their duties – the Goddess called to her, moving away from the rest inside her temple. Athena smiled warmly at Medusa, watching her as she came closer.

The Goddess removed the veil from Medusa’s face, shaking her head as she did so. “So lovely, more so than when you came to me. Nine years is but a blink of an eye to me, but a lifetime for some mortals. You have pleased me greatly, little one. I set you free now. Spend two days hence with your loved ones, then return to the temple. I have one more gift for you, to honor your service to me.”

Medusa blinked. What was this? “I need no other gift from you, Goddess,” she whispered. Athena’s words spun about in her head, filling her with hope and longing. “I have sweet Thea.”

Thea seemed to know she was being praised, for she ruffled her neck feathers and regarded the two women with extreme satisfaction.

It was only when Medusa’s attention returned to Athena that she noticed something amiss. Athena’s face was pinched, her arched brows knitted. Her veil, clasped tightly in Athena’s hold, trembled ever so slightly. 

Was the Goddess moved, too, to part with her? It pleased her to think so. She watched the Goddess brush her hand down the animal’s feathered back. Thea’s head turned to watch Athena’s hand, but she made no move to displace it.

“It is nothing. Nonetheless, you shall have this gift.” Athena’s eyes narrowed as she patted Medusa’s cheek. “Return at sunset, two days hence.”

Medusa nodded, uncertain of how to proceed. She took a hesitant step toward the dais.

Athena smiled. “Go, Medusa, you are free. Go now.”

She glanced uncertainly at Athena before she walked, slowly, making her way to the temples entrance.

Athena’s laugh echoed off the temple walls. “Go. Enjoy your freedom, little one.”

Thea startled at the sound of Athena’s laughter and flew from the temple without a backward glance.

Free
?

Medusa’s mind raced. Surely any moment Poseidon would arrive and demand she go with him. 

But mayhap her Goddess had defended her? She must have. Athena must have pleaded her case with Zeus and, somehow, challenged Poseidon’s proposal.

Medusa’s heart filled with such love, such joy.

Athena had given her freedom, from the Gods, from Poseidon. She cared not about the gift Athena would bestow upon her. The greatest gift Athena could ever give her was this.

Medusa’s eyes traveled over the temple, alighting on each of the new priestesses and servants, on Ektor’s entranced face, and Elpis’ clear astonishment.

She was free?

She made it to the steps before she turned again. Elpis followed her.

“My uncle will not be pleased,” Medusa whispered, smiling. Her joy did not wane.

Elpis smiled in return. “He will carry on. But your aunt will appease him.”

Medusa looked at Elpis, her eyes bright. Her smile grew wider and she hugged Elpis to her.

“You’re free, mistress. The Goddess decreed it so – I heard it,” Elpis whispered in her ear.

Medusa nodded as she released Elpis. Had there ever been a more lovely night? The moon hung low, illuminating the path to Athens, to the shore and the encampment of the Ekdromoi.

To Ariston.

The thundering of her heart filled her ears.

Thea screeched, regarding Medusa with wide yellow eyes before flying towards the shoreline. She cooed, calling to her mistress as she flew.

I’m coming.
Medusa’s heart swelled.

“I implore you, sweet Elpis, for assistance?”

Elpis nodded quickly.

“I need clothes, food…and a witness. Will you serve as my witness?” Medusa’s eyes lingered on the road to Athens.

###

Medusa ran.

Her skirts blew about her ankles in her haste. She slipped often, the shale disturbed beneath her flying feet. But she did not fall or slow. Her excitement carried her.

She did not pause to admire the orchids that bloomed, fragrant and purple, along the hillside. She did not linger over the shepherd’s dog that ran along with her, barking in greeting. Even the stars, glistening like dewy pearls in the fading velvet sky of night, held no fascination for her.

She ran, with her lungs bursting and her heart racing.

She skirted the city, following the trails Ektor had told Elpis to follow. She had no desire to be waylaid there. Time was a precious gift she would not take for granted.

She ran on, her side aching and her breathing labored.

As she crested the last hill, her destination was in sight. Athens’ ships, a hundred or more, rested their bows on the bone-colored sand of the beach. Tents clustered together, the makeshift homes to this legion of Athens’ brave hoplites.

All too soon their tents would be traded for the ships. They would depart, to protect their city from invasion. Hours, days – even Ektor was uncertain.

Her heart leapt into her throat, fear clawing at the sweet bliss she’d felt since leaving the temple. She placed her hand upon her chest, steadying herself with care.

She would not burden him with her fear. There had been enough of that between them. Whatever time they had now would be about joy and love. She would wave and watch him sail from Athens’ shores, holding herself straight and proud for him, until he could be seen no more. She gasped for breath.

She would not think on that now.

Now she was here. And she must find him.

The council convened in a large tent, Ektor had told Elpis. It was larger than the others, red, with a tall flag pole, hailing all who could bear arms, all who were Greek, or her allies, to come and fight. The tent would have to be large enough to accommodate the commanders of the Athenian hoplites, the trained Ekdromoi, and even the less skilled
psiloi
and
peltast
soldiers – all gathered together against one great enemy.

Medusa scanned the beach with narrowed eyes. Ektor was right. This tent, larger than the others, sat on the edge of the shore, removed from the rest of the camp. This was a place for strategy and discussion, to plan for war.

She ran along the steep hill peaks, climbing up onto the flat face of a rock. She sat, breathing hard, and leaned forward to search for him. The tent was open, allowing the cool night air entrance, and the flaps lifted and fell in the sea breeze.

More than a hundred men were gathered inside, she was sure. While most stood back, pressed against the tent sides to form a human wall, a handful stood around a table.

Ariston was not one of them.

The men were gesturing, pointing and slapping a chart spread before them. Though she could not make out their words, their agitation was visible.

One man, with a thick thatch of long black hair, gestured wildly. He stopped, scowling, and straightened. He stepped back so that the other, a bald and weary looking giant, spoke. The giant’s finger jabbed at another spot of the map with fervor, ending his speech by slapping the table with one large open hand.

Medusa wondered what they argued over. Where the enemy waited or the best route to intercept, perhaps? Ektor had said the Persians were coming, but they must stop them from a land invasion if Athens was to survive.

Tonight she would not think of war, but these men could think of nothing else. 

Her gaze searched eagerly amongst the men, knowing she’d find him.

And then, she did.

Ariston stood, with his head tilted forward, listening, it seemed, to the two men. His helmet rested under one arm, his fingers drumming impatiently on the metal dome. His other hand came up to rub the back of his neck.

She shifted, pulling her knees up and drawing the heavy brown cloak around her peplos as she watched him. Everything about him pleased her so. It was no burden to rest her chin on her knees and watch him.

He shifted from one foot to the other, revealing his restlessness to her. His face was hard. His eyes moved, she noticed, glancing through the tent opening. He was distracted. Worrying over the coming battle? 

A shout went up from the bald man, startling her. The bald man’s arm flew up and his cloak billowed about him. He stood, towering over the other man, who yelled back without flinching.

Medusa looked at Ariston, concern mounting. His eyebrow rose, his frustration plain to see. She knew how tiresome it was, to be at the mercy of others’ dictates. While it was an honor to be trusted by those of great import, there were times when that honor meant enduring a vast exercise in patience. She suspected this was one of those times for Ariston.

If only he could see her.

Thea appeared then, cooing. Medusa held her arm out to the owl, but Thea flew toward the tent. The owl flitted past the opening once, then twice, the night filled with her endearing call.

She watched as Ariston’s eyes traveled to the tent’s opening, piercing the dark with their silver-grey warmth.

Thea flew again, swooping past the tent opening, hovering briefly.

Did he see Thea?

His features were fluid, displaying his heart with no words spoken. His gaze narrowed then widened. His jaw tightened and his chest rose sharply. She tensed, waiting, as his eyes peered into the darkness.

He found her.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she waited. He would come to her, she knew it.

###

Ariston had cursed his summons, cursed the Persians and cursed the Gods. The trek from the Temple of Athena Polias had been unbearable, each step a cut upon his heart.

He did not know if he would see her again.

If she was called by Athena, nothing would change. A gift, he supposed.

But the alternative, his lady claimed by Poseidon, was beyond bearing. His hands tightened as images of her laughter, her smile, filled his mind.

Would she laugh with Poseidon?

No, no good could come from such thoughts.

A heated curse filled the air, forcing him back to the matter at hand. Why did the council continue to debate? The Persians were coming. The Athenians and their allies were ready, as ready as they would ever be for such barbarians. Action was needed now. The time for words had passed. He could hardly wait for battle. Those who fell beneath his sword and spear would find no mercy. It was there, upon the battlefield, that he could release the anger and pain he’d held at bay.

His lady’s fate was unknown, pressing upon him. His eyes continued to stray to Athena’s temple, a pale shadow in the moonlight. He should be there, with her.

She’d chided him to do his duty. She’d accept nothing less, for duty ruled all of her.

But
his
duty was of little import to him.

And now the bickering of Athens’ great commanders was more infuriating than a swarm of gnats. He knew his Ekdromoi would lead the Athenians into battle. They were far superior in close combat than the others. Yet the two commanders roared on, delaying this verdict.